Rock and a Hard Place
by thatmasquedgirl
Summary: AU: Once Bitten, Twice Shy, #2. *Felicity gets herself into a little trouble, but the whole vampire thing and an assist from Oliver get her out of it.* A continuation of "Bump in the Night," this time involving a few compromising positions, a lot of really horrible puns, and a panther (kind of). Complete.


**Title: Rock and a Hard Place  
Word Count: 5586**

 **Notes:** Somewhere in the middle of this week, I realized this was the last post before Halloween. I wanted to do something a little spooky, but I suck at anything the horror genre. So, long story short, I felt like it was time to bring the vampires out again. Hope y'all don't mind. ;)

Before anyone gets excited about the rating, please remember that I do not write sex scenes. Ever. We're going to a higher rating because I'm pushing the boundaries of what can be considered "Teen."

Quick shout-out to geniewithwifi-I think this is what she wanted when I wrote "Bump in the Night" based on the prompt she gave me. So, here's part two of that request, I guess.

Hope you enjoy! :D

* * *

When she finally comes to, it's with a jolt. Felicity tries to sit up, tries to wrap her mind around the panic welling up inside of her for reasons she doesn't quite understand yet. Then she vaguely starts to remember it in pieces. Merlyn had a second device she didn't know about, and it caused an earthquake. It had caused her communications to go dark and the club to collapse in on itself.

To collapse in on _her_.

That thought alone is what startles the blonde vampire into action, but she's immediately thwarted by the excruciating pain in her shoulder. Though her vision is fuzzy—she lost her glasses in the quake, it seems—she can clearly see the development in her shoulder. "Oh," she breathes, eyes widening at the wound. Then, in a state of shock, she adds in a high, fluttery voice, "That's a fun development." Then she chides herself because sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, but, to be fair, she just woke up with her left shoulder impaled through a piece of metal from the fallen scaffolding.

If she were human, she'd know the end was nigh, but it's not like her cardiovascular system has been necessary to her survival in the past three years. As it is, it just makes a hollow ache in her stomach because she is _so hungry_. While that's a pressing issue—especially with all the injured humans that are probably running around out there—the first order of business is actually pulling herself off of the beam. Which would be more manageable if a good ten feet of steel wasn't sticking out in front of her and she could see where the other end was lodged.

The whole moving thing kind of sucks when she tries to reach for her phone, but she ignores it because this kind of seems like a call-Oliver-right-now kind of situation. But of course her phone has no reception, probably caused by the whole earthquake thing. So, unless she wants to pull herself up a beam a la Deadpool, it doesn't look like she's going anywhere soon.

"This officially sucks," Felicity decides aloud.

Maybe it won't kill her or anything, but she's going to be incredibly bored for the next few hours.

"Felicity?" a synthesized voice calls out, and she has never been so glad to hear that once-garbled modulator in her life. "Are you all right? Where are you?"

"Over here, Oliver," she calls out, but then she decides he's going to need preparation for this. "I'm okay. Relatively, anyway. I've somehow managed to get myself impaled." He doesn't answer for an impossibly long moment, so she asks, "Can you get to the toolbox with your blood supply? Because I'm going to need blood—and a lot of it."

Felicity can hear him scrambling through the debris, but the sound is distant. "The blood bags are ruptured," he calls after a moment, his voice steadily growing stronger. "We'll have to find some other way for you to heal." His tone is thoughtful, and Felicity's experience, that isn't always a good thing.

Finally she can see his hood in the debris, and when he stumbles, a thought occurs to her. "Are _you_ okay? Because, don't take this the wrong way, but you kind of look like death warmed over." Another thought hits her like a battering ram. "Are you bleeding? Because you don't need to be around me right now. Not just because I could eat you, either. I'm bleeding. If my blood gets in your veins, you, too, are going to win an all-expenses paid trip to undead eternity." She waves her right arm. "Which is not as much fun as it sounds."

Oliver pulls up short as she comes into his view in the dark, his expression blank. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't take pictures," Felicity states with a laugh. "I don't want to wind up as one of those horrible Internet memes. Or the next new trend on Twitter." She points to him. "Seriously, if you tell anyone about my tenure as Vlad-the-Impaled, I'm going to _accidentally_ leak that sex tape of yours that—sadly—never got out." How the hell can she blush when she's losing blood like this? "Which I have never watched. Ever."

He's still eerily quiet, and finally, she barks, "Oliver!" That seems to do the trick; his eyes snap to her face immediately. "This might surprise you, but it's not particularly fun being a kebab. A little help here?"

The vigilante blinks several times, then shakes his head minutely. "I've never seen anyone survive a wound like this," Oliver finally explains, the expression on his face turning haunted. "I didn't think it would be this bad."

Felicity scoffs. "I'm already dead, remember?" she reminds him as he climbs closer to her. "I'm not undead—that's a zombie. I'm just mostly dead, which means that _most_ things can't kill me. While being incredibly clich[e]d, the two gold standards are fire and decapitation. Can't mess with a classic, I guess." He's about five feet away from her when she smells the blood on him, and that's _definitely_ not a good thing when he smells so damn good. "I'm either going to throw up or drain you dry," she warns him as she feels the saliva start to pool in her mouth.

"I appreciate the warning," Oliver mutters absently as he leans over to examine the beam, so close to her that Felicity can taste his scent on her tongue. Her keen sense of sight picks up his bloody lip and suddenly all she can think about is sucking on it—in a much different way than she _usually_ thinks about sucking on his bottom lip.

Oblivious to her desires, Oliver continues, "If I can move some of this debris, I think I can pull the beam out of you." He studies her for a moment. "I think it would probably hurt less than going toward the free end." She nods immediately, and he starts digging through the pieces of concrete, grunting with the exertion.

"Not to be a Negative Nellie," Felicity tells him conversationally, "but that still isn't going to solve my blood loss problem. Normally I'd wait to get home, but that's only a good plan if you want me to leave a trail of bodies." Maybe she's being a little too casual about this whole impaled thing, but, the way she sees it, she's alive and she might as well make the best of her bad situation. "Because the only reason my teeth aren't in your neck right now is because I have this damn bar in my chest."

It's the truth; her throat is pure fire and every bone in her body aches, in ways she's never felt before. Felicity is quite sure she's never been this hungry before. It kind of terrifies her.

But not as much as the reply that comes out of Oliver's mouth: "It doesn't matter—you'll have to do it eventually." Suddenly all the blood drains out of her—and not because of her hemorrhaging shoulder. "I'm the only blood supply you have right now, and I sent Diggle to one of the blood banks just in case. He won't make it back here in time."

She sputters. " _No_ , Oliver," Felicity snaps. "Absolutely not. I know you're under the delusion that I'm harmless because I'm small and blonde, but _I am a vampire_. I've killed before. And in Cambridge, I wasn't nearly as hungry, he wasn't bleeding, and he didn't smell _half_ as good as you do." She licks her lips, imagining what it would be like, anyway. Something tells her that Oliver would taste absolutely amazing and God, she's going to torture herself with this, apparently. "I know you're brave—you don't have to prove it to me."

"It's not bravery when I know you're not going to hurt me," he retorts in a defiant tone.

Groaning, Felicity rolls her eyes. Of course he would make this even more difficult than it should be. She starts to sigh, but the action makes her shoulder feel like... Well, like an I-beam is sticking out of it. "You are the most _stubborn_ human being I have ever met in my life," she half-growls at him.

"I could say the same to you," he answers dryly. It's so innocent that she thinks he has no idea what he's said to her.

"Thank you," she whispers to him. The sound of rubble being shifted immediately stops, as though he's surprised by her words. "For seeing me as a human being and not a monster." While she might love Barry, she knows that he sees her as something other than human—as does Diggle. The curse of her nature is that sometimes, humanity feels lost.

Before he can answer, the beam shifts ever so slightly and suddenly Oliver is pulling it out of her. Standing proves to be a painful challenge, too, and she realizes there's a thick bruise forming on her leg. Broken, Felicity decides. She can't remember the last time she had a day this absolutely horrible. It was probably when she woke up a vampire, but at least then she wasn't worried about the state of her precious humans. Back then, she had no one, and she honestly can't decide if that's better or worse.

Then Oliver's lips press against her forehead and she knows in this instant that it's much better to have people _to_ worry about. _Much_ better. "You're human in all the ways that matter, Felicity," he says simply, and Felicity thinks it might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to her. Then again, she could just be a little giddy because she isn't impaled anymore.

She takes a deep breath—which turns out to be a horrible idea. Not only does it make her chest ache, but it also makes her far too aware of his scent lingering in the air. He's bleeding, and, despite what Oliver may think about her humanity, sinking her fangs into his throat right now seems like an _awesome_ idea.

Trying to fight the urge of her darker nature, Felicity tries to step away, only to be reminded that there's a reason why she was trying not to walk on her left leg. She crumples immediately, but Oliver catches her arm before she can land on her ass. "Don't," she warns him in a strained voice. "You're not good for my control right now."

He lets go of her arm with a frown under that mask. "You can't walk, Felicity," he reminds her instead, made more annoying by the fact that he's absolutely right. Suddenly something is being offered to her, and she recognizes it as her purple peacoat. She takes it and pulls it on, deciding it will make a nice barrier between her blood and his. "Would you let me carry you?"

Though she's sometimes too stubborn for her own good—according to her gran, at least—Felicity is well aware of her limitations. Right now, she can't do anything more than crawl, it seems. "I guess," she offers reluctantly. "And I apologize beforehand for biting you. Because I _am_ going to bite you and it always feels worse when you don't expect it."

Instead of using words to respond, he simply pulls her up in a standing position before swooping her up in his arms. Felicity reluctantly throws her arm around his neck as he positions an arm behind her knees and pulls her into his arms. While she doesn't like being the damsel in distress, the blonde vampire does admit it has some nice perks. With her head against his shoulder, she can hear his heartbeat. While making her already tenuous control more volatile, it's kind of comforting.

Being carried, however, is _not_ comforting. She has no idea what happened to Oliver during his face-off with Merlyn, but he's more hobbling than walking, his gait awkward and uncoordinated in a way that makes her think it hurts him. She tries to focus on that (and not throwing up), but the blood on the exposed points of his collarbone are incredibly tempting. Only because she knows the blood is from the gash on his jaw does she dare to lean over and run her tongue across it.

The blood loss must be contributing to her delirium because Felicity _swears_ that Oliver's heart rate picks up and and he stumbles a little. But she's too focused on her prize to pay too much attention to that. Even though she could swallow mouthfuls of old unpreserved blood right now and not complain, she has to admit that he tastes even better than she expected.

Finally it dawns on her that this could be a little awkward. "Sorry," she offers quietly, embarrassed by her boldness now. "You had a little blood—I told you I'm not good at the whole control thing right now." They already have a weird... _thing_ going on between them; this is probably the last thing they need to complicate their relationship.

"Might as well," he answers, sounding perfectly blas[e] about the whole thing. Damn him and his ability to stay so impassive. "It's not like I'm using it," he adds with a smile in his voice.

"Still," Felicity insists, "that wasn't very polite of me. I'm not one of _those_ vampires. I don't bite people without permission." More for her sake than his, she adds, "And usually not _with_ permissions. The whole biting thing gets... confusing fast." Sometimes she thinks the reason why she stayed with Cooper so long was because of the blood-bond; they weren't really suited for each other and she knew it, but yet she couldn't bring herself to leave.

"I'm sure we'll figure it out," Oliver replies evenly, and she kind of wants to slap him. Most of the time, his determination is something she likes about him, but tonight, it's going to get him killed. She's mostly holding her breath to survive this, and when she looks down, her hands are already starting to shake. He's going to die if he tries to push her tonight.

This time her groan is more like a growl. "Oliver, you're already losing blood," Felicity tries again. "It's hard on your body to be a donor—even when you're in perfect health, eat well, and are well-rested." She waves her hand haphazardly. "You might be the only person in the world who sleeps less than I do, you barely eat anything, and you're severely injured. It's not going to be fun." When she thinks about that, she rephrases. "Well, the bite is going to be fun. The after part? Not so much."

"What do you mean?" he asks as he clears another chunk of concrete. Felicity silently cheers; it looks to be the last big one.

She bites her lip because this is going to be so awkward, she can feel it. "Vampires kind of have a carrot-or-stick method for using human donors," Felicity tries to explain. "If they're not willing, that's where the venom thing comes in. You can't fight if you're paralyzed."

Her face floods with color as she mentions the second one, and she wonders again where all the blood comes from; it's certainly leaking out of her shoulder. "The preferred method is to give incentive to _be_ a donor. Feeding creates..." She hesitates because this is not a word she wants between them—now or ever. "It's somewhere between an arousal and a high." Before he can dwell on that, she points toward the black van that he probably can't see yet. "Van is over there."

As though he's trying to run away from the conversation, Oliver picks up speed, turning toward the direction she points. "If it's what you need," he finally answers with the weight of a decision, "it doesn't matter what the side effects are." It occurs to her he's probably just being nice because a nightclub fell on top of her, but Felicity still appreciates the sentiment.

That doesn't mean she's giving up so easily, though. "Oliver—" she starts to protest.

Apparently she's not the only one who's determined. "Felicity," he insists, "you're hurt and I'm the best blood supply you have right now. And as much as you hate the idea of feeding from one of us, I like it much better than the idea of you hurting someone and having to live with that." It's succinct, but damn him for making a perfectly logical and concise argument that cuts through all of her protests immediately.

Before she can answer, he opens one of the doors on the van and drops her onto the bench seats in the back. Then he pulls off his gloves and the hood, throwing his mask onto one of the supply cabinets. "If we're going to do this," Felicity replies in a defeated tone, "it's going to be on my terms." Oliver actually turns back to her with raised eyebrows, as though the idea of her giving in is like spotting a unicorn. She's not _that_ stubborn.

Usually.

Instead of answering, he pulls off the jacket next, rummaging through the cabinet for a black shirt. It gives her a good look at his injuries—he is _so_ not in good enough health to attempt this—but Felicity knows he's not going to budge on this. "The golden rule is that, no matter what, you do _not_ struggle. If you try to fight me, natural instinct is to subdue you. Which means venom."

"I can live with that," he assures her, moving to sit next to her on the bench.

With a wry smile, Felicity retorts, "That's kind of the point, Oliver." Another thought occurs to her. "It's going to leave a scar." She points to the two parallel lines on her neck, the ones that have been there for three years now. Then she pulls back the collar of her shirt to show him the two on her shoulder. "Which means it leaves a nasty mark for quite some time. I'm going to go for your shoulder so you can hide it."

"There aren't many major arteries there," Oliver points out, but she notices that he's shrugging out of his shirt anyway. Felicity mostly just ogles him for a minute because, for the moment, her day is looking _so_ much better.

She quirks an eyebrow at him. "I've never done this before—not with a donor I'm trying to keep alive," Felicity points out. "The last thing I want to do is try to hit the smaller of the two vessels. Besides, they have more resistance, more variance in flow, and veins carry more blood anyway." She shrugs. "As a bonus, if I don't seal this off right, it's less likely to kill you." When he doesn't look deterred, she warns him: "I'm going to straddle you now."

His eyebrows shoot up at that, but he doesn't say anything as she balances on her knees, throwing herself over his thighs. Her skirt rides up a little too high for comfort, nearly flashing him a sneak peek of her underwear. If it didn't seem completely impossible, she'd say his heart rate is up and his pupils were a little wider than usual. It's an awkward angle in more ways than one, though, and when she tests it, Felicity decides it isn't going to work for her. Instead, she grips his shoulders and pushes him so that he's lying on his back on the seat.

This time, she's one hundred percent sure that he lets out a shaky breath as he stares up at her.

Trying to brush over their positions, Felicity leans down to test the angle. "Much better," she decides after a moment before she looks at Oliver. "Remember, no struggling, no trying to push me away." He nods once at her, and then she focuses on business.

Felicity leans over Oliver, finding a spot on his left shoulder that's perfectly biteable. She presses her nose against it first, inhaling his scent with a smile on her face. His hands go to her waist immediately, but the blonde doesn't mind it a bit. With a hint of hesitance, she presses her mouth to the spot next before tentatively licking a stripe that she means to follow with her teeth next, but some instinct convinces her to run over it again.

She shouldn't do it, but she does anyway: she places a soft kiss to the spot. Then, in a sharp motion, she sinks her teeth into the spot fast and hard. Somewhere she realizes that he huffs out a breath, but Felicity doesn't care now; in this moment, all that matters is the blood welling against her teeth. With that in mind, she drags a jagged line downward to make a parallel set of slits before latching her mouth over them, repeatedly swiping her tongue over them to gather as much blood as she can.

Oliver absently begins rubbing circles into her hip with his thumb, and, while it's kind of distracting, it's also definitely distracting in a _very_ good way. Then he shifts under her abruptly, causing Felicity to let out a muffled growl of warning before his other hand comes up to cup the back of her head, pressing her mouth tighter against his skin with a sharp breath. That's a new reaction for her, but not an unwelcome one. The sound that escapes his throat is delicious, and the small part of her mind that isn't high on the feed really wants him to do it again.

Slowly her hands trail over him without her permission, her right stroking his upper arm and shoulder while her left hand cups Oliver's jaw and neck with a surprising amount of boldness. It slides down his throat, following the pulse of his blood down to his clavicle and back again. It coaxes another wild sound out of him, this one different but just as wonderful as the last. She shifts her weight slightly to gain better access to the wound she created, and that's when she brushes against the evidence of Oliver's... _enjoyment_ of the situation.

It surprises her enough to make her stop drinking for a moment. (High on her bloodlust or no, she still has the presence of mind to decide that, based on what she can feel rubbing against the inside of her thigh, he _still_ manages to exceed her very high expectations.) Once the shock wears off, genuine disbelief follows because she's fairly certain she's _never_ enjoyed being fed from as much as Oliver appears to be. (And, believe her, he's _really_ pleased with the way this is going.) Of course she knows that different donors will react in different ways, this seems to be more... _intense_ a reaction than she expects.

And for a brief moment, Felicity can't help but wonder if _she_ might have something to do with that.

Then she mentally slaps herself because the idea of _Oliver Queen_ getting hot and bothered because of _her_ is completely ludicrous. Not to mention impossible—even now, she's very certain that vampires and humans should _never_ mix. But even as she reminds herself about her rules, Felicity can't help but think that they're so utterly and thoroughly mixed that it's impossible to separate the two of them anymore. But the most surprising part of all is that it happened so fast that she couldn't see the line until she crossed it.

It's that thought, more than any, that finally makes her decide she needs to stop before she hurts him. When she experiments by rolling her injured shoulder, it feels much better, and the ache in her leg is completely gone. She's still hungry—in more ways than one—but she can't be happily sated with Oliver in this sort of condition.

Instead, she sighs against his skin before rolling her tongue over the lines of torn flesh, trying to seal them. Again he groans against her, but this time she doesn't allow that to distract her (much) because Felicity now has a job to do. If she does this wrong, it could be _very_ uncomfortable for him.

Finally she decides the seal will hold, and she pulls away with a smile so wide it flashes her probably bloody teeth. (Which reminds her that she needs to brush her teeth later.) Oliver looks a little dazed and maybe a little pale, but, other than that, no worse for the wear. She inspects the wound then, deciding that it's sealed nicely; there's no blood oozing from the wound, and it's only a little inflamed.

"You survived," Felicity declares, still riding the high of feeding. "That is absolutely wonderful." She pats the shoulder that doesn't have two new gashes in it, her smile softening. "Thank you for trusting me enough to do that." He _shouldn't_ trust her that much, but she isn't the kind of person to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Instead of answering, Oliver props himself up in his elbows, leaning toward her with his eyes on her lips. It makes her grimace. "I have blood all over me, don't I?" she asks. "I've never been a messy eater, but this is different. It's like trying to drink water without a straw. Which is probably a metaphor you don't need right now. Well, technically it's a simile."

Instead of answering her question, he reaches up to run his thumb along her cheek. "How are you holding up?" he asks, his voice coming out low and throaty. Felicity blinks twice because, if she didn't know better, she'd say his pupils were still dilated. The effects of the feed usually don't last that long afterward. Before she can answer, he shifts himself into a sitting position, completely unperturbed about the fact that she's still sitting in his lap.

As she starts to unbutton the peacoat to examine the hole in her shoulder, she gasps out a breath when Oliver's hand curves around her calf, looking at the place where her bone break was. He pokes at it gently, but there's no need for him to be careful; the bone is already fused.

If Felicity was gasping when he touched her leg, it's more of a choking noise when he pulls the collar of her shirt over to inspect her shoulder. His touch is clinical, despite the lingering reminder pressing into her thigh that things between them aren't always clinical. "This could still use some work," he tells her seriously, "but it looks better than it did."

"All thanks to you," Felicity replies with a smile. Then, because she feels the need, she presses her lips against his newest wound again. Her nose wrinkles as she notices the iron taste in her mouth. "Do you have any water around here? I have a lingering taste in my mouth." He points to a bottle in the corner, and she climbs off of him for it, trying to ignore the bulge in his pants. After grabbing the bottle and drinking from it, she asks him, "How are you holding up?"

"Fine," Oliver answers with his eyes closed as he drapes himself across the seat, and this time his voice isn't as raspy. He must realize that answer isn't going to fly because he finally heaves a weary sigh and opens his eyes to look at her. "It was... different than I expected," Oliver admits finally. That seems to be all he's able to say at the moment, and Felicity understands.

"There's no preparing for it," the vampire answers, walking over to the medical cabinet. Then she pulls out an antibiotic cream and a few bandages from it before she walks back over to Oliver again. It's probably a stupid move, but she straddles him again (after all, he's taking up the entire seat) It causes Oliver to look at her with a raised eyebrow, but she ignores it. "I think it's the blood bond talking," she notes as she starts smearing cream over the wound she just made. He starts to protest, but she just pushes him back down. "Let me take care of you," she insists.

He lies back in defeat before instructing, "No bandages." Then his mouth turns down to a frown as he rises up on his elbows to look at her again. "What do you mean by 'blood bond'?" he asks, his brows knitting together. "It sounds complicated."

"Not complicated," she disagrees as she finishes slathering salve over his shoulder. "The blood bond is a crazy and beautiful thing. Then she bites her lip as Oliver raises an eyebrow at her. Only then does she realize that she's still draped across his middle, and Felicity scrambles off of him to the bench across from him. "That's probably what you're feeling right now," Felicity explains. "I don't really know how to explain it, but it's the... _connection_ you feel to someone after the first feed. It mostly won't affect you, but it's stronger after a feed."

She tries to explain it, even though there really aren't any words for it. "Barry thinks it's some sort of survival mechanism for us—it's rare to find a human that knows about vampires, much less allows them to feed. So the blood bond makes our humans feel drawn to us and we feel protective of them in return." Felicity laughs lightly. "Though you probably don't need my protection, but usually we're meaner than our humans." His expression makes her a little uneasy; he shouldn't be taking this so well. "It fades fast," she repeats in assurance, "and the first time is always the worst. At least you stayed in control.

"I wasn't in control my first time as a donor, " Felicity tells him in a timid tone. What she doesn't tell him is that it had ended in sex. She had been high on lust from the feed, and, while Cooper had all of his mental faculties intact, he hadn't been a decent enough person to refuse her in an intoxicated state. "And Cooper wasn't nice enough to stop me." The blonde clears her throat awkwardly. I know it messes with your head, so..." She has no idea how to end that sentence. _Thank you for not trying to jump my bones because I'm not sure I could have stopped you_ doesn't seem like a good ending. Instead, Felicity just waves a hand with a smile. "You did good for your first time."

The back door of the van flies open and Felicity jumps at the sound, Oliver pulling himself upright for a moment before lying back down. When John and Tommy show up on the other side of the doors, she breathes a sigh of relief. Instead of a greeting, Tommy offers a raised eyebrow. "If you're talking about what I _think_ you're talking about, I think you're a little off on your count." He's bleeding, too, and Felicity squeezes herself further into the corner. Handling this many humans in such a small space is challenging on a good day—and today is _not_ a good day.

Felicity rolls her eyes. "A first time doesn't always equate to sex, Tommy," she chides. "Oliver and I are _friends_. We don't have that kind of relationship." If she sounds a little disappointed at the end, well, maybe it's because she wishes she were human and that kind of thing was even remotely possible.

Because John has more of the puzzle pieces, he's faster to come to the right conclusion. His eyes land on the parallel lines on Oliver's shoulder, the ones that are shining with antibiotic cream even as they continue getting more inflamed. "You didn't," Digg says to her, looking a mixture of surprised and maybe even impressed. Then he tosses her the three blood bags she's smelled since he entered. "I thought Oliver was supposed to tell you I was coming with a reserve supply."

"He did," Felicity assures him at the same time Oliver adds his own assurance. "But then my leg was broken and I was impaled, so didn't have the luxury of being picky." John's eyes go wide and the blonde rushes on, "But I'm in much better shape now, thanks to a generous donation by the Starling City Vigilante." She holds up her blood bag in salute.

John studies his friend with narrowed eyes. "You don't look so good, man," he informs Oliver. "You sure you're okay?"

"That's because I _literally_ drained the life out of him," Felicity assures him as she opens the sliding panel of the door to dump out her water bottle. Then she starts pouring the blood bag into it. "I might be selfish enough to do it, but I'm not so selfish that I didn't make sure he was all right first." She knows it's only the blood-bond talking, but she can't help but be a little offended at the accusation.

Tommy isn't as aware of the situation, and he frowns as he stares at Oliver's wounds. "What happened to _you_ , Ollie? It looks like you lost a fight with a panther." He wrinkles his nose at the wounds. "A really pissed-off panther." He studies the wound a little. "Seriously, did someone try to _bite_ you?"

A chuckle escapes the vigilante as Felicity lets out an indignant huff. He throws a partial smile at Felicity before answering, "It wasn't a panther."


End file.
